


Four Seasons AU - Destiel Fic

by luckylachyc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anti-Donald Trump, Destiel Smut Brigade (Supernatural), Fandom Trumps Hate, M/M, White House
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27559168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckylachyc/pseuds/luckylachyc
Summary: When Dean gets a call from the White House...some unexpected things start to happen.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 15





	Four Seasons AU - Destiel Fic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheSongSmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSongSmith/gifts).



> TheSongSmith has something AMAZING going. It got my brain thinking that I wanted to tweak it a bit, so I'm adding my spin to this BRILLIANT idea that is 100% theirs.
> 
> Headcanon that Cas was so enamored by the Pizza Man that he owns the sex shop and Dean owns Four Seasons.  
> Next chapter coming soon but expect some Crowley, some Sam & Eileen.
> 
> This is basically my solution to the PAIN of the past two weeks.
> 
> I'm still not okay.

Dean grimaced as he took a sip of his coffee, absentmindedly flipping through the most recent contact that had made its way onto his desk. The taste was frustratingly bitter, but if he told Garth that he wanted ANYTHING other than black, he was sure that he would never hear the end of it. He checked his phone again, flipping through the alerts. Tiktok. Grindr. Facebook. 

Dammit. Still nothing from him.

Whatever. 

He was probably just busy. They were still on for tonight, last he’d checked. And it wasn’t like him to cancel and not say something.

The office phone rang from across the hall. He considered shutting his door but he couldn’t find the motivation to move. He downed the coffee.

“Yes?” he heard Garth say into the phone. “Four Seasons Landscaping. Yeah. Are you sure?”

What?

Dean smirked. He couldn’t imagine what sort of request they were getting this late on a Friday. He glanced at his watch. 4:45. What kind of a person called fifteen minutes to closing before the weekend? Probably some obnoxiously rich Karen, Dean figured. Wanted their whole yard remodeled for some stupid election party. Republicans. He just needed to close up, get home, change...

“Um, yeah. Just a sec. Dean!”

“Yeah? What is it, man?”

“Um...Dean, it’s the White House on the phone.” Garth’s voice was strange, as if he didn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“Which white house?” Dean snorted, picking up his phone again.

He heard Garth ask the question back into the phone.

“The White House. You know...where cinnamon Hitler lives?”

“No fucking way dude.”

Dean leapt across the desk, swinging his legs over his computer and just barely missing the mug. Paperwork and pens crashed to the floor in ill-timed chaos. Garth’s eyes widened as Dean ripped the phone away from him, one hand missing the top of the desk as Dean fell awkwardly into the wall.

“Yes, this is, uh. I’m Dean Winchester, owner and operator of Four Seasons Total Landscaping.”

“Yes,” an amused yet professional voice answered. “We would like to rent out your parking lot tomorrow morning. We need to hold an emergency press conference for the President.”

Stammering, he quickly verified the address with the caller.

“Yes, that’s right,” they answered. The voice was thick with an emotion Dean couldn’t quite place. He got the feeling that he was suddenly in on some joke that was only going to make sense later.

“Yeah, sure. We’ll, uh, be here to help you set up. We close in fifteen but -”

“That’s fine. We’ll be there at six sharp to start setting up. Thank you, Mr. Winchester. Your president thanks you.”

“My president. Right.”

He slowly handed the phone back to Garth, eyes glazing over as the cogs clicked into place in his brain.

“Dude, what was that?” Garth asked. “Pranksters again?”

“Nah, man. We got something BIG. This is...this is awesome.”

Before he could stop himself, Dean ran out the front door and slammed into the already locked glass doors of the shop next door. He slammed down on the handle and immediately began beating on the glass, ignoring the iron bars that had already been slid into place.

“Cas! Man, open up! Dude! It’s not even five yet!”

A very confused middle-aged man approached the door with a smile. He slid a loose strand of black hair behind his ear as he carefully unlocked and opened the door.

“Dean. What are you doing here?”

“Listen,” Dean gasped, still out of breath. “You’re not going to believe this -”

“Dean. You couldn’t wait an hour to see me? I was under the impression we were -”

“Of course we were,” Dean said, panic flashing across his face. “I mean, we are! But -”

“But what? You aren’t going to cancel on me again, are you?”

“What? No!” 

Dean took a step back, brushing his hands on the thighs of his jeans. He didn’t realize how close they’d been. Was that cloves? He didn’t recognize the cologne.

“Then what’s wrong? Dean, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” said Dean, suddenly remembering why he’d come. “Listen man, you’re not gonna believe this. Trump wants to have a rally in our parking lot tomorrow.”

“A rally? I don’t understand.”

“A rally, man. Like a press conference. Cameras, posters, the whole shabang.” 

Cas looked up at the now dimmed sign to his shop. 

“Here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Dean. Your business is amazing, but I don’t think -”

“That’s what I told them! But babe, they had the right address and everything. They’re coming at six tomorrow to set everything up.”

“Well that’s...” Cas was obviously searching for the appropriate word as he took his tan coat from the hanger by the door and stepped outside. He bolted the iron bars back down on the front door and turned to Dean who was still standing much closer than he’d expected. “Congratulations, I guess,” he said finally, looping his arm into Dean’s and leading him back over to the Four Seasons office. 

“This is gonna be the best,” Dean said, his eyes suddenly glowing. “Sam’s gonna have a cow. Let me grab my stuff and get Garth to lock up. I’ll be just a sec.”

Cas smiled longingly as he watched Dean run inside, jabbering uncharacteristically at his receptionist as he did. He looked at the impala behind him and shrugged. He hadn’t planned on coming to work tomorrow but something made him think Dean was probably going to need his help. Besides, if Dean was this excited, it wasn’t something he wanted to miss.


End file.
